


stars that spark in our bonfire hearts

by zeta_leonis



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Dancing, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Major Character Death but he's dead from the beginning, Not as harrowing, Sadness, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Ungodly amount of italics, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeta_leonis/pseuds/zeta_leonis
Summary: Obi-Wan is empty after Qui-Gon’s death, but he might not have to say goodbye to his former master just yet.Or, alternatively: a bittersweet walk down memory lane.





	stars that spark in our bonfire hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, first time I'm posting this year, and it's April! (I am so sorry) 
> 
> I've been writing this for over three months, hope it's worth it! I hadn't meant for it to be this long, but well, here we are. 
> 
> Warning: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are still master and student when they have sex, even though Obi-Wan is over eighteen. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_After Qui-Gon’s death, Obi-Wan reflects on the most important parts of his and Qui-Gon’s relationship, from Master and Padawan to something more._

Obi-Wan lies in bed, motionless, feeling the hours go by. His head feels heavier than usual, clogged, like he can’t think or breathe. He feels uncomfortably, unbearably, _alone._ The Force seems to have left him, Qui-Gon’s departure having made a cavity in his heart too great to fill.

Now, he must bear the responsibility of caring for the child as well, too soon for any recently named Knight, but undoubtedly necessary, not just because the boy needs training, but because it was his Master’s dying wish, and Obi-Wan would do anything to see it accomplished.

His mind slowly starts drifting. There are tear tracks down his face, and he can feel his eyes burn - he hasn’t cried this much in a long time. He shouldn’t cry and he knows it, he shouldn’t have been this attached, he shouldn’t feel so _empty —_ but he can’t help it. They are a rebellion of their own, and with every step they took to shorten the distance between them they put more at risk; they voluntarily put their hearts on the line, and now Obi-Wan is forced to bear the consequences.

His eyes jump open when he feels it. A thrum in the Force. Steady, ever-present, but not urgent, like a rebirth of energy. A presence, beside him, in his mind, surrounding him. Qui-Gon.

He sits up, or tries to, but something pushes him back down. He wants to open his mouth to talk, to ask, but his throat is raw and dry.

 _Qui-Gon? Are you there?_ He asks through their Force bond; or rather, what’s left of it - it’s different, now that his former master is no longer there in mind or body, just in spirit.

He feels something else through the Force, memories being pushed towards him. He doesn’t want to see them, but he lacks the will to reject them, so he lets them pass through his mind.

____________

 

**_7_ **

_He’s a child, a youngling not yet officially a  Padawan. He stands in a circular room that overlooks the entire city, all of Coruscant. The setting sun bathes the room in pale orange light which casts long shadows on the floor. He knows the people in the room are talking to each other, but their lips aren’t moving. He can almost sense something, like there’s a big secret in the air but he’s not being told. Finally, a man steps forward._

_The man has dark, shoulder length hair, and a short beard. “I will take him,” he says, stepping behind Obi-Wan and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I will take him as my Padawan.”_

_“It is decided, then,” says Yoda. He is the only Jedi Obi-Wan recognises, since the stories are legendary. Everybody has heard of Yoda. The other kids whisper about him at night, tell stories of legendary victories and spread rumours about his incredible powers. His voice is funny to the boy, but he tries his hardest not to laugh. He focuses on what he’s saying. His fate for the next years of his life is being decided, and he wants to make sure he’s paying attention. “Take him as your Padawan, you will.”_

_The man behind Obi-Wan nods solemnly, and the boy doesn’t know what to do or say. He knows he is now officially a Padawan, and that the man is his Master, but that is it. They leave the room, and the man leads them to his quarters - or at least, that’s what Obi-Wan assumes, given there’s a bed and a desk and a small chest of drawers. The sun is lower now, turning the clouds a dark purple. It’s that odd time of day when it’s too bright to turn lights on but too dark to see. The boy loves it._

_“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn,” The man breaks the silence. “I will be your Master, from now on.” He is quiet for a split second. “Though, I’m pretty sure you knew that by now.”_

_Obi-Wan smiles sheepishly. “Kind of.” He’s nervous. He can tell his Master is an important man, if anything because of the looks his friends gave him when he walked past them behind Qui-Gon._

_“I can sense you’re worried.” Obi-Wan nods and looks away._

_“Yeah,” his voice is breathy, almost trembling. It’s almost hard to breathe as he comes to the realisation of the massive weight on his shoulders. “I don’t want to disappoint, I guess.”_

_Qui-Gon frowns, and kneels in front of him so they’re eye-level, and at this distance, Obi-Wan can see how blue his eyes are. Their depth is intimidating, as though he’s looking through Obi Wan’s soul. “You shouldn’t feel so. I can tell you will be a great Jedi.”_  

_The Padawan’s eyes widen considerably. “Really? How can you tell?” Obi-Wan had always known that Jedi could see in the future, visions are not uncommon, but he is surprised he had been the protagonist of one such sight._

_“I have seen it. You too will be able to see into the future, albeit only in part - a true vision of the future is impossible.” Obi-Wan is silent, in awe. He wants to become a Jedi Knight now more than ever, and he’s pretty sure that his Master can feel his excitement through the Force, because he gives the boy a small smile full of fondness._

_Obi-Wan grins, and in that moment he feels himself fill with warmth, all because of the way his Master’s eyes shine with hope._

_“You should get some sleep,” Qui-Gon says when he stands, and he ruffles Obi Wan’s hair. “It’s a big day tomorrow, and you should be well rested.”_

_The boy nods eagerly, impatient to begin the next day, heart ready to burst out his chest. He stops smiling, puts on a serious face meant to make Qui-Gon believe he’s serious and focused. “Yes, Master.” his voice is as solemn as he can manage, and Qui-Gon nods gravely before opening the door and letting him out._

_When Obi-Wan returns to the common dormitory (for the last night -- the next day he will be issued a new room for his private use, as he is officially a Padawan) he walks with a spring in his step, head held high. When he walks into the room, the other boys fall silent, only to surround him moments later and bombard him with questions._

_Obi-Wan had never had many friends, for he had a shy demeanor and was never one for socialising or opening up. Now, surrounded by his peers, he feels somewhat overwhelmed, but there is also pride swelling in his chest._

_“What is he like?”_

_“Did he teach you stuff already?”_

_“Did you see his lightsaber?”_

_“I - what? - no.” Obi-Wan laughs, then shakes his head. “I - well.” He doesn’t know how to start, is at a loss for words. “He’s kind. He’s kinda calm, soothing-like. He’s very gentle.” The other boys frown a bit. “I didn’t get to see his lightsaber, and he didn’t teach me anything either.”_

_“That’s it?” One of them calls from the back._

_Obi-Wan doesn’t know why, but he feels oddly protective of his new Master. “Well, yeah! I don’t know what you guys are expecting, I’ve only known him for a total of ten minutes.”_

_“Are you sure it’s_ the _Qui-Gon Jinn, legendary Jedi Knight and not the librarian?” Someone else says._

_The young Padawan tries not to get offended. That would not be the Jedi way. “Yes, I’m sure.” The others quickly disperse after that, somewhat let down._

_Later that night, however, when all that can be heard in the room is soft breathing (and some snoring), and artificial lights glow out the window of the temple, Obi-Wan is restless, unable to fall asleep. His mind is racing, full of wonder, thinking about all the future holds._

_“I can hear you thinking from here.” A soft voice interrupts his train of thought. It’s Joamar, one of his classmates. She’s somewhat stronger in the Force than he is, but he must have been thinking really loudly._

_“Oh.”_

_“I wouldn’t have thought it was about the Knight,” Joamar says, getting out of her bed and sitting on Obi-Wan’s. “By how you described him, he doesn’t sound very interesting to me.”_

_The boy looks up at her, raises his eyebrows, then lies back down. “I don’t know, Joamar…” he looks away, stretches his arm up towards the stars and curls his hands around nothing, watching the flickering lights through the glass dome above them. “There’s something about him.”_  

_They are silent for a long time, hearing Coruscant’s bustling sounds, a restless city in day and night. “Do not think so loudly.” The girls says, leaning down to whisper into his ear. “Next time, I might not be the only one listening.”_

____________

 

The Jedi laughs bitterly. It is a good memory, their first meeting. He can feel a joyous presence, happiness in the Force. It sours him like nothing else does, and it should not, he knows this, but he cannot help it. The grief within him makes joy turn to ashes in his mouth.

_I did not know you were so readily protective of me, even back then._

Obi-Wan sits up in his bed. He has heard it, Qui-Gon’s voice, and his suspicions have been confirmed. He tries to reach out to him, like reaching out in the dark, unsure of what you might encounter.

 _Speak to me Qui-Gon. Do not make me relive these things. My pain will do nothing but grow and fester in my heart._  

_Rid yourself of it. It will lead you to the Dark Side. Besides, I am here, I will always be here._

_I need you._

_Reflect with me. Think on us fondly. I do not wish you to suffer when thinking of me._

Obi-Wan lets out a long, pained sigh. He resigns himself to it, unblocks his mind and lets Qui-Gon push yet another memory to him through the Force.

__________

**_15_ **

_He is older now,  fifteen years old. He has been on one other mission, but it was purely diplomatic, and to a nearby system. Needless to say, the Padawan was disappointed._

_“Do not feel this way,” Qui-Gon had said to comfort him. “There will be more missions. In time, you will learn to appreciate a break from fighting.”_

_“But Master,” Obi-Wan had insisted, “I have not been able to use my lightsaber yet. You gifted it to me, and I have not been able to really use it.” Sensing what his Master was about to say, he stopped him. “And no, using it whilst training doesn’t count.”_  

 _Qui-Gon had ruffled his hair (he never got out of the habit) and told him to be patient._  

 _Now, they are on a ship, and this time they are heading out on a real mission, off to a planet on the Outer Rim. There is a reported trade of illegal weapons, in bulk. Had the planet belonged to the Hutts, they would not have batted an eye, but since it is Republic-controlled, it strikes the Senate as strange._  

 _“You are nervous.”_  

 _“I know.”_  

 _Qui-Gon sits beside him on a bunk in the ship. “I thought you would be excited.”_  

_“I am, truly.” Obi-Wan’s voice is not convincing, and though he knows his Master can see through the statement, he tries convincing him anyway. “It’s just that, well - I don’t want to die, honestly.”_

_“You should not fear death.” Qui-Gon says then, voice soothing and reassuring as always. “You will not die today.”_  

 _“How do you know? Have you sensed this?”_  

 _“No.” Qui-Gon’s voice is more reassuring than anything else, and it soothes Obi-Wan, at least for the time being. “Death means reuniting with the Force.” He twirls his braid in his hand, feeling the intricately woven hair. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he rests his head on his Master’s shoulder. It’s a risk, and when he feels the older man tense up at the touch, he’s ready to move away and apologise, ask for forgiveness-_  

 _Qui-Gon snakes a hand around his shoulders until it reaches the top of his head, and begins running his hand through short auburn hair. Something about his touch calms Obi-Wan, but he can’t figure out why. It isn’t just limited to his touch - it’s his voice, the sight of him, his mere presence in the Force is enough to turn his most tumultuous moments into absolute peace._  

_Time passes slowly. The Padawan knows they are reaching their destination, but the minutes pass like oil between his fingers. After so long he forgot when they started, Obi-Wan begins to wonder, who is calming who? Qui-Gon’s fixation for his hair has not gone unnoticed, and though the boy finds it curious, he finds himself unable to deny his Master. He would never admit this out-loud, but he likes the feeling of Qui-Gon’s calloused fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp, toying with his braid._

_“We will be arriving shortly.” A droid rolls into the room, pulling them out of their trance, and they almost jump apart, as if they had been caught doing something they aren’t supposed to do._  

 _“Come, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says, standing up. “Let’s go.”_  

_Obi-Wan trails after him somewhat absentmindedly, mind still on the hand in his hair, on the warmth of their bodies pressed together, on the electric thrum of the Force when they’re around each other. He mostly blames that on their Force bond in an almost desperate excuse to not dwell on it._

_When the ship door opens and touches the ground, Obi-Wan feels his heart shoot up into his throat. There is no one on sight, but even so they move stealthily through the tall buildings of Taris. The ruins of a once-proud city now gleam in sunlight, tall skyscrapers now resembling broken shards of glass similar to the ones that crack under their feet along branches and dry leaves. In the time since it was destroyed, vegetation has struggled to break through the concrete, but slowly, trees have grown, intertwined with steel bars and lamp posts._  

_They reach a large, tattered building, that must have been a factory back in the day. It has broken windows, and the metal exterior is rusty, the once silver panels now turned brown due to the constant humidity and lack of maintenance. It should have been quiet, given the abandoned nature of this city. However, from within the building there comes a low thrum of machinery, the squeal of rotating pieces and the clang of metal against metal._

_“Master, the door is -” Obi-Wan’s voice is low, so as to not disturb the relative peace._

_“Shhh!” Qui-Gon puts his finger over his padawan’s lips, and the boy’s eyes widen, unbeknownst to the older man. He fights back the sudden urge to wrap his lips around the digit, pull his wrist closer, look at Qui-Gon’s eyes as- what is he thinking? The young man shakes his head, pushes those thoughts from his mind. They are as inappropriate as they are dangerous, and he cannot let Qui-Gon see these thoughts._  

 _“This way.” The Jedi Master uses the same hand to signal Obi-Wan to follow him._  

_“Master, I’m literally three steps behind you.” The padawan giggles to himself, delighted at the exasperated sigh he pulls out of his master._

_They go around the building, more cautious now, as there is a higher probability that they might be seen, even though there appear to be no visible guards. The ground beneath them is wet, though the rainbow patterns reflected in the puddles indicates something else - oil. The smell of it is thick too, blending in with the scent of damp earth and that of the wildflowers that grow from vines on the trees surrounding them._

_The back of the building is very similar to the front, but the entrance is much smaller, resembling a door more than a gate. Qui-Gon puts his hand on the rusty knob. They both flinch at the loud noise it makes when it clangs on the floor, stray bits of rusty metal flying beneath their feet._

_“Great.” the older man grumbles, giving Obi-Wan a look when the padawan snorts, pursing his lips in an (unsuccessful) attempt not to smile._  

_The door opens anyway after Qui-Gon pushes it, creaking from the effort after all the years of not having been opened, the door-hinges as rusty as the rest of the building. The sight that awaits them within the building is one they had never seen before._

_Machinery is whizzing away, sparks flying as metal is molded, bolts are tightened, screws are turned, and mechanical limbs are attached. Droids, by the hundreds, are being assembled, mass-produced; but for whom?_

_Above the work-area, there is a window that looks out over the entire building. From within, a warm yellow light spills into the otherwise dimly-lit factory, in which only two white lights hang from the ceiling, their power slowly fading._

_Between the two Jedi and the machinery there lies a panel of reinforced plastic, that makes a corridor between the transparent panels and the wall. From this viewpoint, the two men can look at the factory, albeit still within the visual field of the lit-up room above them._  

 _“Stick close to me,” Qui-Gon whispers, and Obi-Wan bites back a remark of,_ “Even closer?”

_Qui-Gon definitely heard that, if the eye-roll in the immediate aftermath of that thought is anything to go by._

_The corridor serves to muffle the sounds coming from the droid creation going on next to them, but also to amplify their own footsteps, making them more self-conscious not only about their steps, but about their own breathing._  

_After turning a corner, they encounter another corridor that ends in diverging stairwells: one, leading upstairs, and another, leading down to the factory._

_“Do we split, Master?” Obi-Wan asks, voice steely, but his eyes betray his true emotions: he’s afraid. The last thing he wishes is to be separated from his master, especially given this is his first mission. However, why he fears this separation is unclear to him: is it because he has never had to deal with a situation like this alone, or because he does not wish to disappoint?_

_Maybe Qui-Gon feels this turmoil through their force bond, but he puts a steadying hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, forcing the padawan to look up into his eyes, the blue in them a darker shade, like the sky after sunset, not yet black._

_“No, Padawan.” His voice is deeper, meant to soothe the rising emotions in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach, something else bubbling along the fear. “But you should not dread our parting - it will come one day. Physically, we will not be joined, but I shall always be with you in the Force. Remember this, for you must not form attachment, as it leads to the Dark side.”_

_There is so much Obi-Wan wants to say, but his mouth is dry and the words stay hidden within his own mind, somewhere not even his master can find, some place where even he can’t access them, where he can’t dwell on them. He limits himself to nodding and swallowing hard, offering Qui-Gon a small smile._  

_“And breathe, Obi-Wan. If your palms are sweating as much as they usually do, you won’t be able to hold your lightsaber.”_

_The window opens, and a man pokes his head out, looking from side to side with a frown._ _Luckily, they have hidden in the space created by the recessed door._

_When the window closes, Obi-Wan looks up at his master. The door is thin, so both men have been crushed together in the tight space, the padawan’s head resting on Qui-Gon’s chest. “Master, he knows we are here. I felt it.”_

_“He suspects it, he doesn’t yet know. Pull out your lightsaber, but don’t turn it on yet.” the older man instructs._  

_“The door is locked, Master. How will we-”_

_“Stand back.”_

_Obi-Wan does as told, and as soon as he does, Qui-Gon turns on his lightsaber, cutting out a rectangular hole in the door at lightning speed. Obi-Wan wants to remark that maybe it’s too much, but as soon as his master kicks the door down, his heartbeat shoots up, his breathing quickening as his palms sweat even more._

_“Hey, what are you-” the man inside shouts, reaching for his laser gun. Obi-Wan uses the force to pull it from his hands, then dropping it on the floor as he pulls out his lightsaber, standing alongside his master._

_“You must come with us for interrogation, then your fate will be decided at Coruscant.” Qui-Gon commands, eyes steely, voice harsher than Obi-Wan has ever heard it._  

 _“You think I would come with you, Jedi scum?” The man snarls, trying to appear confident, but his sweaty forehead and shaky voice give him away. Obi-Wan shifts on his feet, sensing something strange. “Is this the best they could send, an old man and a child? Pathetic.”_  

 _Neither of the two change their position. Qui-Gon repeats himself slowly. “You must come with us, or we will take you by force. The choice is yours.”_  

 _“I think neither.”_  

_At that moment, a laser shot between both Jedi, hitting the window behind them and searing through it and hitting one of the machines in the factory. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon look towards the source of the shot, and they suddenly find themselves swarmed by droids, coming in through another door opposite the one they went through._

_Battle erupts. Qui-Gon fights efficiently, slicing through metal and leaving droid bodies scattered throughout the room. Obi-Wan is slower, fighting against the fear threatening to paralyse him. Lasers come shooting towards him, and he uses his own saber to block them, getting closer to the droid. Once he’s close enough, he kicks the droid’s gun out of its hands, then uses the saber to cut its head off. However, before he has any time to rejoice, another shot flies past him, and he’s off again._

_In the midst of chaos, the man is nowhere to be seen. Qui-Gon stops, piercing through a droid without even looking as he searches for the man._  

_Obi-Wan is going up against two droids at the time, and with adrenaline rushing through his veins, blood roaring in his ears, he sommersaults over both of them, stabbing the middle of one and cutting the hands off the other, then slicing it in half. Sweat beads down his forehead, and he pants harshly, taking only a few seconds to breathe before whirling around when he hears another one approach._

_Qui-Gon spots the runaway man on the floor, picking up the laser Obi-Wan had let fall on the floor, then pointing it at -_

_The Master doesn’t even think about it, rage and fear filling his vision as he runs at the man, jumping and kicking him in the head with a spin, knocking him to the floor. Without skipping a beat, he lunges his lightsaber through his middle as the man tries getting up._

_When he looks up, he sees Obi-Wan fighting another droid, the last one, and watches as his padawan successfully disarms and finishes with the machine._

_The look Obi-Wan gives his master when he realises what he’s done is one of awe and fear and ‘oh, look what you’ve done’._

_“Are you disappointed, padawan?” Qui-Gon has a soft, gentle tone, almost as if he doesn’t want to scare his apprentice. He is aware that he should not have killed the man, that he was a valuable suspect and that now their efforts were almost meaningless. The Master looks down, ashamed, unable to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes._

_Obi-Wan steps closer, his expression reflecting the turmoil of emotions within himself. After a long pause, it was his turn to put a reassuring hand on his master’s shoulder. “No.”_

_Qui-Gon’s own hand reaches up to cover his padawan’s, but he still does not look him in the eye. “You should be.”_  

_“You have killed before and you will kill again. I believe you did it because you felt it absolutely necessary. I imagine in any other situation you wouldn’t have resorted to killing.”_

_“Thank you, Obi-Wan.”_

_On the ship, Qui-Gon approaches Obi-Wan as he lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling._

_“What are you thinking about?” The padawan knows Qui-Gon could just tap into their force bond or into his thoughts, but the fact that he doesn’t makes all the difference. He’s appreciative of this fact._

_“I don’t know. The mission, I guess.”_

_“That’s what I came to talk to you about.” Qui-Gon leans on the wall above Obi-Wan. “You’ve done really well. I’m really proud of you.”_

_Obi-Wan turns to look at his master, a smile growing on his face. “Really?”_

_“Yes! You were brilliant, truly. I mean it.” Qui-Gon’s own smile lights something in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach, making butterflies flutter. “You will do great things.”_  

_Obi-Wan is clearly flustered, his cheeks turning almost as red as his hair, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “Oh, I - it was nothing special, Master. All I did was kill some droids. They weren’t even alive. Droids aren’t alive in general - you know what I mean.” He’s rambling, which he does when he’s nervous or embarrassed, and now he’s a mixture of both. Why does it feel like this around his Master, when they’ve known each other for so long? Why is he shaking, giddy as a child, at such praise? Obi-Wan is almost sure he knows the answer, but he dares not think it, for it is dangerous._

_“Have it your way then.” Qui-Gon laughs, and the sound makes Obi-Wan force himself to look away, more heat impossibly rushing to his cheeks. He hopes Qui-Gon thinks it’s just humility and not - Obi-Wan doesn’t know the alternative either._

_Qui-Gon then ruffles Obi-Wan’s hair, and it sends a rush of electricity down his spine, constricting his lungs and making it harder to breathe._

_Hypnotising blue eyes take over Obi-Wan’s dreams that night._

__________

_Have you always known that I felt for you, even then?_

_Yes._

Obi-Wan laughs, the idea so ludicrous and embarrassing he knows not what else to do.

All that time, all those years - at least five more years would pass before they acted upon their feelings, and meanwhile they had both been suffering.

_Why did you never tell me?_

_I felt wrong. I felt like I was taking advantage of you in the beginning. After you became an official adult, I feared my feelings would distract you too much, or would get us kicked from the Order. No, I could not risk our lives for my feelings._

_We risked them anyway._  

_You forget you are irresistible, Obi-Wan Kenobi._

The young man laughs a bit more, not enough that it will disturb the quiet (too quiet) peace of his room, but enough to let joy back into his heart, slowly. 

Their old Force bond was slowly coming back to life, flickering like a lightbulb not yet run out of power. Qui-Gon’s presence was stronger now, with every sentence said in Obi-Wan’s mind, the energy within the former padawan flowed faster, vitality and life breathed into his every muscle. 

Obi-Wan now welcomed the new memory pushed towards him. 

__________

 

**_18_ **

 

_How they ended up chest to chest, Qui-Gon’s leg between Obi-Wan’s, hands on either side of the padawan’s head to prevent them from being completely pressed together, is a curious tale._

_—_

_“Honestly, Qui-Gon, I’m fine.”_  

_“You got the cast off three days ago! Your leg bones can’t possibly be ready for a mission, no, impossible! I’ll get someone else to go, this is absolutely ludicrous.”_

_“It’s not like I’m going to have to kick anyone on a train, Master.”_  

 _Obi-Wan had been all but careful during the last training session, and had suffered a_ slight _mishap involving falling off a moving speeder._  

 _“You never know, Padawan.” Qui-Gon shakes his head, sighing deeply._  

 _“Please? I’ve been in Coruscant for a month doing virtually nothing. I’m bored out of my mind, Master.” He walks over to his master, trying hard to hide the very slight limp, as if demonstrating his capability. “It’s only a mission to supervise some shipments - I don’t believe there will be much fighting required. It’s basically only going to be you and I on a train for three days. What could possibly go wrong?”_  

Oh, I can think of some things that could go wrong. _The older Jedi doesn’t voice his thoughts._  

 _In the end, Qui-Gon reluctantly agrees to take Obi-Wan along. The padawan is more ecstatic about a mission than he’s been in a long time, and thinks Qui-Gon doesn’t notice when he winces every time he stands up._  

 _The desert planet is practically devoid of inhabitants, the only big city being the miner city southwest of the train station. However, the Jedi did not land there - they landed at the station, big clouds of dust and sand from the land making them cough and sputter once they get off the ship. Qui-Gon sends Obi-Wan a worried glance, but Obi-Wan reminds him through their force bond that,_ It’s my leg, not my lungs.

 _“You have arrived, finally! The train leaves in five minutes.” The creatures from the planet don’t bother with formalities, leading them away and to where the train is stationed._  

 _The planet’s natives are large creatures, their noses wide and eyes deep-set, eyes very similar to goat’s eyes, with one horizontal pupil in each. Their skin is blue and smooth, devoid of hair. Their hands and feet possess long digits, each with long claws. Their voices are rough, like crunching sand. “You know where the cargo is, right?”_  

 _“We are aware.” Qui-Gon replies calmly, noticing how everyone seems to be on-edge. There are gems in the train worth around three-million credits, hence why the Jedi have been called to supervise the operation of transporting them._  

 _They are accompanied into the train, and even though Obi-Wan’s eyes widen at the sight of stairs, he makes it up them without too much of a struggle and a look from his master._  

 _“The bathroom is there, the beds are under the window, and there’s food in that cabinet over there.”_  

_Qui-Gon thanks him, and then they are left alone. The wagon they’re in is a double deckered wagon, with the top floor being for staying in and the bottom one just seating. The other wagons are mere storage wagons, carrying large quantities of grain as a cover-up._

_“I’m going to make myself some tea. Do you want any?” Qui-Gon offers, and Obi-Wan nods absent-mindedly. This month of being on his own for the most part has given himself time to dwell on the feelings he has for his master. The young man is aware he’s been harboring a crush for three years. At first, he put it down to your average apprentice-master crush, one that most padawan had at some point and eventually faded with time, when the teenagers grew out of their hormonal phase and settled down, both spiritually and emotionally. Obi-Wan, on the other hand…_

_The train lurches forward without so much as a warning, not even a whistle, and a few seconds later Obi-Wan hears a shout of,_ “Kark!” 

 _The padawan rushes over to help his master as fast as possible. The older man is doubled over, cupping one of his hands, and the kettle is on the counter, water droplets on the surface from having been dropped._  

 _“Have you burnt yourself?” Obi-Wan asks, bent to look his master in the eye, a frown on his face._  

_“Yeah.” The older man’s face is contorted in pain, his bottom lip caught between his teeth._

_Obi-Wan takes the burnt hand by the wrist and pulls Qui-Gon along to the bathroom, where he runs the burn under cold water. After that, he rummages through one of the cupboards for some cling film, which he then uses to wrap around his hand._  

 _“Was it the water or the kettle?” Obi-Wan asks as he carefully wraps Qui-Gon’s hand, noting the calloused fingers and rough knuckles, the ridges of his palm and the dry skin of the back of the hand._  

 _“A Jedi with a burnt hand and another with a non-functioning leg. I won’t blame the bandits if they assault us, to be completely honest.” Qui-Gon laughs, and it makes butterflies flutter within Obi-Wan’s stomach, making him laugh along._  

 _They sip their tea in silence as they watch the scenery pass by through the window. It’s not particularly mesmerising: seemingly endless dunes of red sand that stretch out for kilometres, an ocean of copper and blood that seem even hotter under the sweltering sun._  

 _Obi-Wan can feel Qui-Gon’s boredom through their force bond. There’s only so much one can meditate, and since Obi-Wan’s less-than-fortunate accident, it’s pretty much all the older man has been doing. After the fact, many years later, Obi-Wan would continue to blame his boldness on the heat and the tea._  

 _“Master,” he begins, voice smaller than usual. He doesn’t look the older man in the eye, choosing instead to focus on the hideous pattern of the rug beneath them. “Has a Jedi ever been thrown out of the order for -” Audible gulp. “- romantic reasons?” Obi-Wan downs the tea in one go, wishing the scalding heat would burn his throat so that he will never have to speak to Qui-Gon (or anyone, for that matter) ever again. Not in this life._  

 _Qui-Gon doesn’t answer immediately. He strokes his chin and beard, his look that of a man lost in deep thought. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I do know of Jedi who have voluntarily left because they’ve fallen in love with somebody outside of the Order, but none that have been expelled for that reason in particular.”_  

 _“And what about falling in love with someone...within the Order?” Obi-Wan wishes to fling himself out the window and into the sand, where he prefers the earth to swallow him whole._  

Obi-Wan what are you thinking, you absolute fool? Oh you imbecile, now he’s going to know for sure, look what you’ve done! 

 _This time, Qui-Gon quirks an eyebrow, but if he notices anything through the force bond, he doesn’t say (or imply) anything._  

 _“Well, I’ve known Jedi Knights that have fallen in love, and successfully maintained the secret, hiding it from the Council. I trust you’ll keep it too.”_  

 _Obi-Wan nods and hums appreciatively, going back to stare out the window. His face is as red as the desert sand, and he feels like he’s burning on the inside and the outside._  

 _“Why the questions, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asks, and Obi-Wan makes an undignified high-pitched sound at being put on the spot._  

 _“Um -”_ Think fast, think fast. _“Research.” He says the word almost like it’s a question, like he doesn’t believe it, but Qui-Gon simply nods and leans back, not questioning further or mentioning the conversation for the duration of the trip._  

 _The rest of that day passes quickly - it was already afternoon by the time they set off. Sleeping is easier, since it isn’t as hot anymore, and everything is quieter, more peaceful. Silver moonlight filters in through the windows, as there are no blinds over the glass, lighting Obi-Wan’s face as he stares off into the desert. On Qui-Gon’s side, mountains rise in the horizon, their peaks impossibly covered in snow._  

 _“What are you thinking of, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asks. “I can tell you are restless.”_  

 _“Nothing important, Master.” Obi-Wan excuses himself. “I’m sorry for having woken you.”_  

 _Qui-Gon laughs breathily. “Don’t apologise, young one. I couldn’t sleep either.”_  

 _Obi-Wan fakes offence, a smile growing on his face. “‘Young one’? I turned eighteen two months ago!”_  

 _Qui-Gon turns his head to look at his padawan from the other side of the wagon. “My point exactly.”_  

 _“Ugh.” Obi-Wan fake-groans, giggling afterwards. Their beds are opposite each other, the hallway in the middle separating them. After their laughter, all that can be heard is the sound of the train’s wheels on the tracks, and the occasional sound of some nocturnal creature._  

 _“Good night, my Padawan.” Qui-Gon breaks the silence, and Obi-Wan turns his head to look at his master, how the silver light catches in his hair and makes it glow, giving him an ethereal aura that makes the young man’s breath catch._  

 _“Good night, master.” Obi-Wan turns to look away, staring out the window, eventually falling asleep to the beat of his own heart._  

 _Come morning, Qui-Gon is nowhere to be found. Obi-Wan’s heart picks up for a moment, fearing for the safety of his master, but he then hears the faint sound of Qui-Gon’s voice singing along to some old song of his, and he immediately relaxes._  

 _“I’m downstairs, Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon yells, picking up the brief moment of anxiety through their force bond. Obi-Wan mumbles a reply Qui-Gon definitely did not hear._  

 _The padawan is still buckling his belt when he gets downstairs, only to find a table covered in food, and the smell alone makes his mouth water._  

 _“Did you make all this?” Obi-Wan asks, stepping over to the food as if he were getting close to a beast, slow and cautiously._  

 _Qui-Gon sets down two cups of coffee, then invites his apprentice to sit in the booth. “Yes. I figured we never get to eat anything that isn’t ration bars or odd foods from other planets, so I thought we could treat ourselves for once. The people of this planet may not be sophisticated, but they left some food I had not had for a long time…”_  

 _“Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan says, then digs into the scrambled eggs like they’re his last meal._  

 _There isn’t much they can do, after breakfast. Holonet is slow out in this desert planet, and even though they could go check on the cargo, opening the space where it’s stored would take far too much effort. If anyone tries forcing entry to any one of the wagons an alarm goes off in the whole train, and they would have heard it if it had gone off in the middle of the night, so checking on the gems if they know they’re there is a terrible waste of energy._  

 _Qui-Gon opts for meditation, meanwhile Obi-Wan decides to try some of the rehabilitation exercises the doctor recommended upstairs._  

 _That evening, the alarm goes off._  

 _Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are conversing after a light lunch, tackling a philosophical question Obi-Wan had raised about some of the morals of the Jedi Order, when they suddenly heard a thump on the roof of the train. They fell silent, and then they heard it again. And another one._  

 _The other wagons could only be accessed through the top floor, so both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan rushed upstairs to find a sword piercing the ceiling, cutting a hole in the middle._  

 _Qui-Gon pulls out his lightsaber, waiting for the attackers to come in. Obi-Wan does too, in spite of the pain in his leg. The rehabilitation exercises were not easy or painless, and having to fight was far from ideal. He’d never hear the end of it from Qui-Gon._  

 _The ceiling drops, and the noise gets even more insufferable, the loud noise of the blaring alarm now accompanied by the magnified sound of the train tracks. The first attackers drop in, men with masks that cover their whole faces but their eyes, dressed in red robes designed for the desert. They wield long, curved blades made of a dark metal neither of the Jedi had ever seen._  

_Obi-Wan’s grunts with every blow he blocks, the pain in his leg now exacerbated to completely intolerable levels, almost as if it had broken again. He fights back anyway, still finding a way to answer Qui-Gon’s comments - “Lightsabers don’t cut through their blades!” “Yeah, I noticed!” - in the heat of battle. After defeating one of his attackers, another one comes running at the padawan, this one wielding two of the dark blades. Obi-Wan doubles his efforts, but still, he is pushed back against the wall, his strength slowly waning. Every one of his attacks is blocked, and all he can do is block the blows with both hands on his lightsaber. One of the blades gets to Obi-Wan’s arm, and the Jedi cries out in pain, whirling around and piercing the man’s stomach with the lightsaber, watching Qui-Gon knock his attacker out with a blow to the head with the butt of the lightsaber._

_Obi-Wan falls to his knees, tears falling freely from his eyes as he nurses his injured arm, trying to put more weight on his left knee. Qui-Gon is by his side within seconds, surprising Obi-Wan by picking him up in his arms bridal style._  

_“More are sure to come,” Qui-Gon murmurs under his breath as he steps over the bodies on the floor. “They cannot have sent only five to rob an entire train.”_

_The next wagon is dark, as it has no windows. The air is stale, and full of dust. The smell of wheat is almost pungent, filling their lungs and making both men cough profusely._  

 _Once they get to the bottom of the stairs, Qui-Gon looks around, searching for somewhere to hide. Complete darkness is a setback, but then he sees it - an empty cupboard under the stairs, most likely one that used to hold supplies when the train carried spare parts and other metalwork._  

_“They won’t find us in here.” Qui-Gon whispers, and opens the door. “Can you stand?”_

_Obi-Wan nods, and he’s put down gently into the narrow cupboard. Stray voices are heard above them, shouts in a different language, and a clang of metal on metal. Qui-Gon rushes to get in, and even though he closes the door as quietly as possible, there’s still an audible_ thud _that makes both men flinch._  

 _And we’re back at the beginning._  

 _Qui-Gon only fits like this, and at this distance, Obi-Wan can still make out the blue of his eyes, if only just._  

 _“Master,” Obi-Wan whispers, the knot in his throat not entirely caused by fear. “You cannot possibly stay here with me. If they find the gems, we will have failed our mission.”_  

 _“I cannot fight them alone.” Qui-Gon admits, but his voice is not disappointed, nor is it regretful. “And they will never find the gems.”_  

 _“How can you be so sure?”_  

 _“They are hidden in the whole train. They are in the pipes and the railings on the stairs and the bolts that make up this train. No matter how much they search, they will not find them.”_  

 _Obi-Wan’s eyes widen like plates, his look one of incredulity. “Then why did they need us?”_  

_“Just in case.” Qui-Gon smiles. It vanishes quickly though, as they hear footsteps above them, and Obi-Wan tenses like a bow, pain shooting from his leg to his whole body. He bites his lip to keep any noise from escaping him._

Relax, Padawan, _Qui-Gon speaks through their force bond._ They will not find us.  

 _His master then leans forward, Obi-Wan’s heart now beating like it wants to escape the prison of his ribs, and he’s sure the attackers will find them by the sound of it alone. Qui-Gon presses his lips to Obi-Wan’s forehead as a way to calm him down, but all it does is make adrenaline rush through his veins like a drug. Obi-Wan gasps quietly, and his eyes widen, but he puts all his energy into trying not to hyperventilate. It isn’t the first time Qui-Gon’s done this, and it will not be the last, but this time around it’s different because Obi-Wan is in love and if every time their hands brush he gets nervous, this makes his heart soar and his hands shake as he loses the ability to breathe._  

 _The men are around them, they can feel it. Even Qui-Gon tenses now, and Obi-Wan uses what little strength he has left to wrap his arms around his master’s neck and hug him, both as a comfort to the other man and himself._  

 _The footsteps move away, upstairs, having miraculously not encountered the Jedi. After some time (it could have been minutes, it could have been half an hour, Obi-Wan isn’t sure at this point) they cautiously open the door. Qui-Gon steps out, then carries Obi-Wan out with him. After checking that there is nobody on the train (the men must have taken their dead along with them on the way out, for only the small pool of blood from when Obi-Wan’s arm was slashed remains on the floor of their wagon) Qui-Gon lets his padawan down on his bed._  

_“Master,” Obi-Wan croaks before his master goes downstairs. The older man turns his head, offers him a small smile._

_“Yes?”_  

 _“What if they had found us?”_  

_Qui-Gon’s answer leaves Obi-Wan breathless, as he says it without skipping a beat, without question. “I would have fought to the death to protect you.”_

___________

 

_The train? That’s the mission you pick?_

_What, it was emotional!_  

 _Sure._  

Obi-Wan sits up in his bed, stretching his arms over his head. He slips the sheets from his body, then proceeds to get up, his weakened legs now shakier than they used to be, given that he’s been lying in bed for almost a week. 

His stomach growls, and he hadn’t realised he’d been neglecting his body for so long, had been lost in a vacuum of his own grief for that long. But first - hygiene. Obi-Wan pulls his clothes off, leaves them on the floor for his cleaning droid. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, sunken in their sockets. His posture is terrible, his shoulders hunching forwards and his head somewhat tilted to the side. There are still tear tracks on his face, and his beard is unshaven, scruffy, messy enough to match his hair. His skin is pale, unhealthily so, and there’s grime under his nails for The Maker knows what. He’s pathetic.

The ‘fresher is good for him, as he feels like a new man when he steps out, at least two layers of dead skin having been removed. The beard is next to leave - he likes himself clean-shaven for now, but who knows, maybe someday he’ll grow an affinity for a beard. 

Next on his list, food. Crucial. The Knight is in a better mood now - food is actually tasty, compared to the bland, unappealing texture it had last week. The coffee burns, but he now re-appreciates its dark and sophisticated taste, rather than just liking the burn because it distracted him from the true pain. 

He changes the bedsheets, puts the old ones to wash. Chores have become almost therapeutical, but it’s healthy, and this way he gets around to doing the things he had not done in previous weeks either - vacuuming, mopping, dusting - though it’s harder now that Qui-Gon isn’t there to help. He often made Obi-Wan to do his own chores, so as to not become completely dependent on the cleaning droid, as well as using it as a meditation exercise. In return, Obi-Wan asked him for help completing said tasks, which Qui-Gon begrudgingly agreed to. 

Obi-Wan does return to bed, though now in a calmer, less distraught state. His former master doesn’t even speak to him through their bond, instead, the next memory is pushed to the front of his mind by a new energy, something more lively, more at peace.

__________

 

 **_21_ **  

 _“The Council knows who they are sending, right?” Obi-Wan teases his Master, holding back a grin at the eye roll he gets from the older man. “I don’t think they could have found a Jedi who cares less about the Code.”_  

_“Mind yourself, young one.” Qui-Gon’s voice is stern, but his eyes are yet playful. “I do care about the Code, which is why I seek to correct it. Tough love, padawan, tough love.”_

_Obi-Wan does allow himself to smile incredulously, eyebrows raised and hands on his hips. “Sure, Master. Sure.”_

_Qui-Gon pushes his padawan playfully before sitting on the circular couch. This ship is certainly one of the fanciest ones they have ever been on together, if not the fanciest. They have been sent as ambassadors, representatives of the Jedi Council, called to assist a ceremony, where they will be awarded a medal commending their efforts of peace protection. It is trivial nonsense, but the Jedi saved this planet from almost certain destruction, so somebody had to go._  

 _The ship is equipped with proper beds, and a lounge area bigger than either Jedi’s living quarters._  

 _“I could get used to travelling like this,” Obi-Wan sits on the couch beside his master, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs._  

 _Qui-Gon turns to his padawan. “Have you brought your ceremonial robes?”_  

 _Obi-Wan blushes. The robes are not the traditional ceremonial Jedi robes, for this event is far too formal for those, the stark white stripes against light brown out of place when surrounded by gold and silver. Instead, they are wearing far more archaic robes, back from when the Order was first made and the principles of austerity and humility were not so deeply rooted, tailor-made and hand-sewn. “Yes, but I don’t think we’ll have to wear them yet.” Obi-Wan hates how they look on him. He’s become so accustomed to seeing himself in dull colours and loose-fitting fabric that the sight of himself in anything with a high collar and tight waist makes him shake his head in denial._  

 _“No, thank the Maker,” Qui-Gon laughs. “We’ll wear them tonight, for the award ceremony and following celebrations.”_  

 _“I don’t believe I have ever seen you in anything else, Master.” Obi-Wan says._  

 _“I need not wear anything else. These robes are comfortable, and they allow freedom of-”_  

 _“You’ve been wearing them since I was a youngling.”_  

_Qui-Gon fakes offence, flipping his hair over his shoulder and holding his chin up. “They’re comfortable, period.”_

_Obi-Wan’s laughter fills the room as the ship nears its destination._  

\--

_“Welcome, welcome, Jedi! We are forever grateful, and honoured to have you as guests on our planet.” The Taenorians are a graceful people, their long, thin limbs hidden under robes of deep purple, long collars and wide sleeves giving them an ethereal look. Their skin is white, with a blue hint, smooth and pulled taut._

_“We thank you for your hospitality.” Qui-Gon bows, smiling cordially._  

 _“Come, we will show you to your chambers.” They are led away from the ship and into a smaller speeder. The city is beautiful from above: it is similar to Coruscant, but instead of grey, everything is adorned with gold, tall buildings that seem to reach for the stars, piercing the sky, the golden points of the skyscrapers almost blending in with the stars._  

_Their room - it’s in the penthouse of one of those incredible skyscrapers, with views over the entire city. The room is the largest Obi-Wan has ever stayed in, the tall ceilings making him feel small. The beds are large, king-sized, opposite each other, set up on a dais. The rest of the room is almost gaudy, ornate golden decorations lining the velvet-covered walls, all the way up to the chandelier that lies between both beds. The balcony, however - it’s almost austere compared to the rest of the room, yet no less beautiful: the wall is grey stone, but the railway is both glass and metal, giving off a soft glow in the orange light of sunset._

_“Come look at the views, Master.” Obi-Wan says after the Taenorians have left them alone. “Sunset from here is wonderful. I dare say it’s more beautiful than in Coruscant.”_  

 _“Maybe.” Qui-Gon joins his padawan on the balcony, the air getting colder as the sun disappears behind the mountains in the horizon. That adds to the beauty - the city is big, but the wild nature of the planet is still visible in the distance, not ready yet to be forgotten._  

 _Qui-Gon’s hand slides closer to Obi-Wan’s, twining their fingers. Obi-Wan is older, no longer fifteen nor eighteen, he’s twenty-one, and now he likes to think he’s somewhat more mature. He’s come to terms with his feelings, he labels them, he knows what they are. Now, he tries a different technique: he’s subtle about it, trying furtive glances and shoulder nudges. He’s caught off-guard when Qui-Gon iniciates contact like this, this intimate._  

 _“We should change, Obi-Wan. The ceremony begins in a little over an hour.”_  

 _Obi-Wan nods, begrudgingly ripping his hand away from Qui-Gon’s._  

 _\--_  

_“Obi-Wan, you’ve been in the bathroom for almost half an hour, what are you doing?” Qui-Gon’s already changed. His robes are red, as he is a Jedi Knight and Master. They fit loosely, as per his own request. They consist of a gold-coloured, high-collar undershirt, and a floor-length red tunic wrapped around it, its sleeves also loose-fitting. Then, a half-arm red shawl overtop the tunic._

_“I’m - Master, I - I don’t know - I don’t think I look right in this.” Obi-Wan’s voice is meek through the door._

_“Come out, young one. I’m sure you look just fine.” Qui-Gon doesn’t understand his padawan’s insecurity. The young man always gets looks from both women and men, no matter where they go, his red hair and piercing blue eyes making for a highly attractive potential mate. Not to mention his kind but shy demeanor and svelte figure, making him absolutely -_

_Breathtaking. Obi-Wan’s tunic is tight, the high collar accentuating his long neck and high cheekbones. The tunic marks his pectorals, cinches in the waist, makes his shoulders look wider, more firm. It reaches down to his feet, though it splits in two at the hip, and the tight trousers he wears only accentuate his figure. The dark teal brings out the blue in his eyes, and the golden designs on the tunic match the gold beads in his Padawan braid, which do nothing but add to the generally stunning image of the young man. All Qui-Gon can do is stare in awe, mesmerised._

_“Obi-Wan, you look…” the Master finds himself at a loss for words. He’s never seen his apprentice look this way. Equally, he’s never seen him so unsure of himself, not physically. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”_

_“Lying is unbecoming of you, Master.” says Obi-Wan, his face turned away from his master’s wide eyes, hiding from what he sees in them._  

_“Look at me, padawan.” Qui-Gon cups Obi-Wan’s face with his hand, turning his head, forcing him to open his eyes and look straight at his own. “I would never lie to you. You are the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and will doubtless be the most handsome man tonight. That is a promise.” There is a flicker of something in Obi-Wan’s eyes, and he can’t tell if it’s disbelief or self-doubt or something entirely new. Whatever it is (Qui-Gon won’t dwell on it, he won’t, he won’t) it makes a smile break across the redhead’s face and that’s good enough for him._

_“Now come,” says Qui-Gon, breaking the stare and taking Obi-Wan’s arm in his own. “I believe we have an award show to attend.”_

_\--_

_Obi-Wan’s hands are sweaty, his brow gleams with it and his overall feeling is just clammy. Why is Qui-Gon doing this? They’ve been tiptoeing around the issue for so long, Obi-Wan’s going to need new shoes. And Qui-Gon, being Qui-Gon, is throwing all plans out the window and just going for it, it seems._

_The stage isn’t too big, and neither is the building they’re in, only a few selected officials assisting the ceremony, maybe less than a hundred._

_“And now, we honour the Jedi, represented here by the honorable Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”_

_Claps. Qui-Gon steps onto the podium. “Thank you, thank you. The Jedi Order is thankful for this award, it is a great honour to receive it.”_  

_As Qui-Gon goes on to speak about values, honour, duty and code, Obi-Wan can’t help but focus on the way the shining lights of the stage illuminate his face, making his eyes lighter, making his jaw more defined and his smile brighter. His hands, how they grip the podium, the veins standing out under his skin, the same calloused hands that cradled his face and called him handsome, the same calloused hands that have saved him over and over. It hurts Obi-Wan, to want something so much but never be able to have it. He looks away._

_He’s hit with a sudden realisation._ Maybe I shouldn’t - I’ve been after him for so long. I’m going to make him lose everything. I was so selfish, how could I have been so reckless? All this time, I’ve only thought of myself, but what of Qui-Gon? If we are discovered, we are doomed. No, I will renounce to this, I will give him up. For both our sakes, I will give him up.

_\--_

_“You did wonderfully, Master! You got a standing ovation.” Obi-Wan congratulates Qui-Gon backstage, being careful not to touch him. “When did you write the speech?”_  

_Qui-Gon winks. “I didn’t.”_

_“You -” Obi-Wan giggles, unable to finish his thought. Qui-Gon reaches for his hand once more, but the padawan pulls away, turning his gaze elsewhere. His Master frowns, but before he can say anything, a Taenorian woman comes into the room to lead them to the feast. Obi-Wan senses Qui-Gon’s worry through the Force bond, but he doesn’t respond._

_\--_

_Dinner is...awkward. They converse amicably with their hosts, but whenever Qui-Gon tries initiating a conversation, Obi-Wan responds with short sentences that cannot lead to a longer discussion._  

Are you upset, Obi-Wan? Is it something I’ve done? _Qui-Gon tries, speaking through their Force bond._  

I’m fine Master, you’ve done nothing wrong, I promise.

_Even through the Force bond, Qui-Gon can tell something is wrong. Obi-Wan knows that Qui-Gon is aware of his mood change, but he cannot let his master know._

_“May I have this dance?”_  

_Obi-Wan is taken by surprise, looking to his side to see his Master on his feet, offering his hand out to him._

_“Oh - Oh no, I - I can’t dance -” Obi-Wan stammers, eyes wide, shaking his head._

_“Come on Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon is smiling, radiant, irresistible. “It’s only one dance.”_

_Obi-Wan cannot resist his steely blue eyes, and before he knows it, he finds himself being pulled onto the dance floor._  

_Qui-Gon leads, one hand holding Obi-Wan’s hip as the other is pressed against the younger man’s palm, their chests almost touching, their gazes meeting._

_“I didn’t know you could dance this well.” Obi-Wan murmurs, eyebrows raised. Qui-Gon twirls him, taking the redhead by surprise, pulling him closer, hand tighter on his waist._  

_“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Qui-Gon whispers, lips close to his ear, and Obi-Wan blushes from head to toe, wanting to give in, wishing for nothing else than to take his Master by the hand and pull him away to some dark room and -_

_The music changes. The tempo is faster, and Qui-Gon evidently knows this one as well, because he pulls away from Obi-Wan and takes his hand, spinning him away before pulling him close, then taking both of his padawan’s hands._

_“Master, I don’t know this dance!” Obi-Wan exclaims, unable to hide the smile on his face._

_“Don’t worry, I do!”_  

 _And know it he does - Obi-Wan is picked up and spun round, and through it all, through the jumps and the twirls, he laughs, laughs genuinely, harder than Qui-Gon has heard before, which makes him laugh as well._  

_They are beautiful in this moment, a perfect flurry of red and blue, a perfect contrast of boldness and serenity, not day and night but dusk and dawn._

_The song ends, and Obi-Wan’s forehead is pressed to Qui-Gon’s, their breaths mingling as they pant, their eyes closed, Qui-Gon’s hands on his waist, Obi-Wan’s around his neck. It’s perfect - it would be so, so easy, to just lean in a few centimetres, to just give in, to kiss the man before him and take, take, take._

_People. There’s people watching. There’s people watching and if word gets out it’s all over, and Obi-Wan’s guilt kicks in. He opens his eyes and rips himself from his Master’s grasp. The older man’s eyes fly open, and he reaches out to Obi-Wan, who stumbles back, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost, face as pale as one._

_“I - I’m sorry Master, I - I can’t -” Obi-Wan stammers, shaking his head, arms flailing in front of him - he takes off running, pushing the emergency exit door with the Force, tears welling up in his eyes, blurring his vision. His head aches, and his heart - oh, his heart - his heart burns._

_“Obi-Wan, wait!” Qui-Gon calls after him, but he’s left on the dance floor, people dancing around him as he watches his padawan run away - run from him._  

\-- 

 _“Obi-Wan, we must talk about this.” Qui-Gon steps out onto the balcony. Obi-Wan is in his nightclothes, shivering, leaning over the balcony, eyes lost._  

 _When he doesn’t reply, Qui-Gon tries again. “Obi-Wan, please.”_  

_Obi-Wan turns to leave, but Qui-Gon takes his arm, spins him around. “There’s nothing to talk about!”_

_Qui-Gon lets Obi-Wan go, following after him into the room. “Don’t yell at me like that, padawan, I am still your Master.”_

_His stern tone makes Obi-Wan stop dead in his tracks. He’s never to Obi-Wan like that, never has, not even as a youngling._

_The younger man sighs, but doesn’t face his Master. “What do you want from me?” His voice is small, tired. His eyes are getting glassy again, but he will not cry, not in front of Qui-Gon, not now._  

 _“I want you to speak to me about what just happened.” Qui-Gon is behind him, he can sense it, but the older man doesn’t attempt to touch him. “I want to know why you ran.”_  

 _“Because -” Because what? Obi-Wan can’t tell him, can’t confess, can’t tell him that he ran because he’s afraid, because he feels guilty, because he will be Qui-Gon’s ruin. There is so much he wants to say, a lifetime of pining and wanting and unreciprocated love flashes before his eyes, and his heart beats like he’s running for his life, and maybe he is. There are so many things he wants to say and so many things he doesn’t want to say, so all he manages is: “Because I can never be yours, Master.”_  

 _Obi-Wan then proceeds to lock himself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees which pressed against his chest. He doesn’t think of anything, doesn’t meditate, ignores the urgency Qui-Gon sends through the Force bond until it stops. Only then does he come out._  

_The room is pitch black save for the glow of artificial lights streaming in from the window._

_The padawan gets in bed and sobs - he sobs for so long, cries his heart out, for he just lost all he had ever wanted, had just lost the person he loved the most - until he falls asleep, a dreamless sleep of nothing but darkness._

_____________  

 _That’s a sad one, Qui-Gon._  

_But it has its happy moments. Nothing is black and white, padawan._

The word makes Obi-Wan’s heart skip a beat, his stomach clench, his chest get tighter. It hurts, because he shouldn’t be telling his ~~former~~ Master under these circumstances, but - _I’m not your padawan anymore._  

 _You’ll always be my padawan to me._  

Obi-Wan nods absentmindedly. He’s tired, actually, properly, unmistakably _exhausted_ for the first time in a week, and he would rejoice if his eyelids didn’t feel this heavy.  

_Will you be here when I wake?_

_Every day of your life, if need be._

___________ 

 _The next day, they do not speak to each other. Qui-Gon is meditating when Obi-Wan wakes up, and the latter decides to head out to avoid his Master._  

 _He’s tearing himself up: on the one hand, he knows this is wrong, he knows the consequences if they’re caught, he knows this could end terribly. On the other hand, he’s in love, truly, deeply, unapologetically, in love, has been since before he could remember, and now he’s blown his chance._  

_The streets of the Taenorian capital are empty, it’s a rest day. Not many speeders cruise the air, and even fewer Taenorians walk the streets. Obi-Wan doesn’t know his way around the city, but the destination isn’t his goal. He just craves time to think. The twin suns of Taen’or are hidden behind slate grey clouds that threaten downpour and thunder._

_He finds himself reaching the city wall, and with a sprint and a good kick he finds himself gripping the ledge, hauling himself over. Sitting here, he can see everything: the vast forest that spreads out before him, a large expanse of grass in between. A lake lies in the centre of the meadow, breeze making the water’s surface ripple._

_The wind blows harder, threatening to knock Obi-Wan off, but it won’t, he knows, and as he watches the water ripple and the trees shake, and as he feels his hair get swept and his braid fly with it, as he feels his clothes get ruffled, as he feels the cold cut through him, absolute calm possesses him. In this moment of utmost concentration, he can’t see the forest or the meadow or the lake or the city behind him or the wall beneath him: he can see but one person. Qui-Gon._

_That’s the answer._

_Obi-Wan almost backflips off the wall in his eagerness, and as he runs, he feels his Master contact him through their Force bond._ I’m sorry.  

_The redhead wants to tell him not to apologise, but he can’t, there’s no time. It starts raining, but Obi-Wan doesn’t care, his legs powered by a higher energy, by love, and he keeps running even after he’s run out of breath and his sides begin aching. He knocks into someone, mumbles an unintelligible apology and keeps running._

_He reaches their room soaked in icy water and sweat, heaving as he opens the door._  

 _The room is quiet, save for the sound of running water. Qui-Gon is in the shower._  

 _Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything through their Force bond, instead choosing to open the door as quietly as he can, stealthily stepping inside._  

This is crazy, _he thinks, but then shakes his head. He’s chosen._  

 _The padawan pulls his clothes off, leaving them on the floor. With shaky breath, he opens the shower door, and steps in._  

_Qui-Gon’s back is turned to him. Obi-Wan wants to say something, but he can’t. His mouth is dry, and as he begins regretting every life choice that led to this moment, Qui-Gon begins to turn around under the stream of water._

_Their eyes meet, and everything they’ve never said, seven years of pent-up feelings and suppressed longing spill out in the space between them. Neither of them speak. The tension in the air is so thick it threatens to choke them both, kill them slowly as a punishment from keeping such a secret in the dark._  

 _As Obi-Wan’s hand rises to push the door back open and leave, Qui-Gon steps forward._  

 _Neither of them know who started it, who initiated it, but they’re kissing, they’re kissing and Obi-Wan thanks the Maker and every deity he knows. Qui-Gon’s lips are brutal, savage, they offer no mercy and Obi-Wan needs none, he’s waited and wanted for so long that he kisses back the same way._  

_Qui-Gon’s hands slide down from his face to his neck to his waist, spinning them around and pushing Obi-Wan against the shower wall, knocking his breath out from him. They separate briefly, only to join right back, inseparable. Qui-Gon bites on Obi-Wan’s lower lip and pulls back, kissing him again straight after, tongue exploring every crevasse of the redhead’s mouth like he wants to commit it to memory._

_Their erections rub together, and Obi-Wan grinds up against Qui-Gon, making the older man groan and push Obi-Wan harder against the wall to ground him._  

_Qui-Gon bends down, trails kisses from the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth to his jaw, to his neck, to his collarbone, sucking marks along the way. The younger man throws his head back against the tiles, pushing his hips out against Qui-Gon’s, relishing in the sound it elicits from him. Obi-Wan threads one hand in Qui-Gon’s hair and puts the other on his shoulder, using the one in his hair to pull the older man back up to his lips, unable to go for too long without them. He’s hooked - he only had a taste and now he cannot live without them, of that he is sure._

_Qui-Gon’s hands reach down lower, grabbing at Obi-Wan’s ass, drinking in the moans he pulls out of the boy. His right hand grabs under his cheek, at the beginning of his thigh, and he lifts that leg up, wrapping it around his waist, using the other to Force-pull the gel off the rack and into his hand. Obi-Wan’s arms fly up to wrap around his shoulders._  

 _“Here?” Obi-Wan asks between kisses._  

 _“Here,” Qui-Gon all but growls, kissing him again, deeply. “Now.”_  

 _That sends another wave of arousal through Obi-Wan, making his cock throb. Qui-Gon uses the Force to open the gel, then dipping his fingers in it. The warm spray of water dissolves it a bit, so he slathers a copious amount on his digits. He turns to his padawan._  

 _“Are you sure?” Qui-Gon asks, and Obi-Wan nods fervently, pulling his master in for another open-mouthed kiss._  

 _The first finger circling his rim feels strange, and he tenses. Qui-Gon takes he hand on Obi-Wan’s waist and drags it down slowly, building the anticipation, watching him writhe just from that, then wraps it around his cock, immediately earning a moan from him. Qui-Gon strokes him slowly, not wanting him to come yet, but wanting him to get distracted enough to -_  

 _the first finger goes in slowly, and Qui-Gon watches Obi-Wan’s face for any discomfort._  

 _Obi-Wan is already a mess. He’s caught between a point of immense discomfort and immense pleasure, so when Qui-Gon tentatively asks, “How does it feel?”, he doesn’t know what to reply. “It’s - odd.” Obi-Wan’s hand grips his shoulder. “I’ll get used to it.”_  

_Qui-Gon begins thrusting the digit back and forth, slowly, carefully. Slowly, the discomfort fades, aided by his master’s hand._

_“Oh, I - What is that?” Obi-Wan asks, eyes shut, body tense. Qui-Gon’s reached something within him that made pleasure shoot through him like a drug, leaving him broken and begging for more._  

_“Your prostate.” Qui-Gon murmurs, angling his finger to hit it again. And sure enough, he does, making Obi-Wan cry out his name, legs shaking._

_Obi-Wan leans forward, putting his lips over Qui-Gon’s pulse point, murmuring into his throat. “You can add another one.”_  

 _He leans back on the wall, grinning up at his master. Qui-Gon tilts his head and smiles, pushing a second finger in, really grinning when Obi-Wan’s mouth opens around a moan he can’t hold back._  

 _It’s more intrusive but more fulfilling, and when Qui-Gon scissors them open, well._  

 _“Qui-Gon, please,” Obi-Wan doesn’t scream yet, doesn’t yell, but he begs in a soft voice that teeters on the edge of a whisper and makes the older man impossibly harder._  

_“‘Please’ what?” Qui-Gon curls his fingers, searching for the prostate once more_

_“Do that again.” The padawan is desperate, but determined._

_“Do you mean -” Qui-Gon spreads his fingers once more, angling them upwards, and Obi-Wan all but melts, crying out loudly. “- this?”_

_Obi-Wan nods. Qui-Gon’s hand pulls away from his cock, coming up to his padawan’s neck instead, cupping his jaw and pulling him up into a kiss just as he adds a third finger. The moan that escapes the redhead is unlike any he’s ever made, honey to Qui-Gon’s ears._  

_“Are you alright?” Qui-Gon murmurs into Obi-Wan’s ear, the latter now resting his head on his master’s shoulder, hands wrapped tightly around his neck._

_Obi-Wan nods, whimpering when Qui-Gon spreads his fingers, pressing kisses to Obi-Wan’s freckled shoulder._

_“Qui-Gon, I’ve waited for Maker knows how long.” He lifts his head to face his master. “I need you.”_

_Qui-Gon nods, kisses Obi-Wan as he pulls his fingers out. He drops Obi-Wan’s leg, then puts the gel in Obi-Wan’s hands. “You do it.”_

_Obi-Wan blushes, not looking the older man in the eye as he runs his hands over Qui-Gon’s cock. The latter gasps, his erection having been neglected this whole time. He brings his lips to Obi-Wan’s again, this time with more fervor._

_“Stop,” Qui-Gon speaks against his lips. He puts his hands under Obi-Wan’s thighs again, but this time, he hauls him up, the younger wrapping his legs around Qui-Gon’s waist._

_The head of Qui-Gon’s cock pushes against his rim, and Obi-Wan reminds himself to breathe, relax. When he pushes in, they both groan, Obi-Wan throwing his head back, mouth open as he pants for air._

_Qui-Gon expresses his concern through their Force bond, which is crackling like a live-wire, whirring with energy, this new connection tying them closer than they ever were before._

_Obi-Wan shakes his head, lips quirking into a soft smile. He reaches up with one hand to push a strand of hair out of Qui-Gon’s face, and he nods subtly._

_Qui-Gon begins at a slow, measured pace, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm his new lover. Obi-Wan tightens his legs, unused to this feeling of being full - then empty - then full again. His moans fall freely, unable to stop them, just as he’s unable of stopping his hips, which seemingly move out of their own accord to press back against Qui-Gon’s._

_The older man then sets a faster pace, groaning as he does, helpless to his own sounds as well._  

 _“Do you know,” Qui-Gon murmurs into his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. He hits Obi-Wan’s prostate then, if the loud exclamations of_ “Yes, yes, there, there, please -”   _and the nails raking down his back are anything to go by. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? How long I’ve wanted you?”_

_“Not as much as I have -” Obi-Wan’s smart reply is cut off by another moan, pleasure overriding his senses as Qui-Gon hits his prostate again and again. He isn’t going to last very long, not if Qui-Gon keeps fucking him like his sole purpose is tearing his padawan apart._

_“Don’t stop, God, don’t stop,” Obi-Wan is practically sobbing at this point, lost in pleasure, in the feeling of Qui-Gon’s cock stretching him and bringing him a relief he’s sought for years._  

 _Qui-Gon presses his forehead to Obi-Wan’s, bringing their lips together in short kisses because they can’t sustain long ones anymore._  

 _Obi-Wan almost comes when his Master commands him to touch himself, and he pulls at his cock in time with Qui-Gon’s thrusts._  

 _Obi-Wan wants to warn that he’s about to come, but he can’t, he can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone coherent phrases, so he tightens the hand that’s wound in Qui-Gon’s hair and presses a bruising kiss to his lips and hopes it’s enough._  

 _Spurts of white paint their chests and even their chins, but the steady stream of warm water washes it all away. Obi-Wan shakes and cries out, unsure if his body can withstand such an amount of pleasure._  

 _Qui-Gon doesn’t stop thrusting, but he’s about to, the redhead catching him off-guard._  

_Obi-Wan slurs the words out, too fucked-out to get his tongue to articulate sentences, but he manages - ‘Put me down’. Qui-Gon does - Obi-Wan gasps, winces at the feeling of loss, at the almost-severed connection - and the younger man sees him open his mouth to question his padawan, brow creasing, eyes clouding with worry. Obi-Wan flips them around, pushes Qui-Gon gently against the wall, then drops to his knees. His master immediately knows what’s going on, anticipates it almost, and throws his head back against the tiled wall when Obi-Wan’s lips wrap around the tip. It’s his first time doing this too, so he doesn’t take too much in, barely even half, but God, the sight of Obi-Wan’s lips wrapped around his Master’s cock makes up for the lack of technique. He covers what he can’t reach with his fist, twisting it as he’s seen on the Holonet porn, licking the underside of Qui-Gon’s cock before coming back up to swallow it down, making eye contact this time, which only makes Qui-Gon’s mouth widen in a gasp, pupils blown._

_It’s the older man’s turn to become a mess now, fingers twining in his padawan’s hair like he did when he was younger, not moving him, just holding him for leverage._  

 _“Obi-Wan, I’m going to -” Qui-Gon tries warning, but Obi-Wan doesn’t pull off. Instead, he does the opposite, sucking harder, moving his hand faster. Qui-Gon comes down Obi-Wan’s throat with a moan and a full-body shudder that renders him speechless._  

_“I love you,” Qui-Gon says, sinking to his knees, wrapping his arms around the younger man, kissing wherever he can, his face, his neck, his shoulders. “I love you, I love you.”_

_“I love you too.” Obi-Wan giggles, running his hands through Qui-Gon’s hair. “I love you too.”_

____________

Obi-Wan wakes up with a gasp. The memory is one of his favourites, of course Qui-Gon would make him dream about it. 

The sun is about to rise over Coruscant, almost a new day beginning. But not yet. 

 _Will you be here forever, then?_ Obi-Wan asks, having gotten up, looking out the window at the dormant city.  

_As long as you need me._

_And what if I stop needing you?_  

 _Then I will wait until you join me in the Force._  

Obi-Wan smiles to himself. He will be alright, after all.


End file.
